Bloody Kiss
by theconsultingpenguin
Summary: Vampire!Lock. Enjoy. *UPDATE* I have been informed that it's a bit rushed... I can see that now. XD As I am a "new" writer, I'm lucky that the person was kind and constructive Wooo3


One look was all it took for John to become enamored with the enigmatic character known as Sherlock Holmes. One look for a brief second from the blue-eyed man was all that was necessary to become the single, most important person in the world as far as John was concerned. It didn't matter that they had just met. John would do anything for the raven-haired male. Unfortunately for John, that would never come to pass. Three weeks after their first "meeting", Sherlock was reported to have been murdered. Crushed, John knew he'd rue the day he didn't gather up the courage to talk to him.

One night, John was alone in his flat. Having failed to eat, John was down three pounds in less than a week. He couldn't help it. The sight and smell of anything edible made him nauseated due to his anxiety. The smell of the fresh fruit he'd purchased earlier in the day was beginning to make him feel ill. Practically running to the window, John threw it open only to find a familiar face staring at him from the street below. His heart lurched and his blood ran cold. 'Sherlock... It's... It's really him.' he thought.

Scrambling out of the window, John cut his neck on a nail as he squeezed through to lower the fire escape down. Without another word, John watched as the other silently climbed the stairs in a series of effortless movements. John stepped back as the male sat at the open window. "May I come in? I must have your permission before I enter your flat" said the male. John gulped as he nodded. "Y-Yeah... Sure" he said as silver lighted black curls flowed freely in the night breeze. Soon enough, Sherlock was standing tall and statuesque. Stoic as always, Sherlock stood there with an unblinking gaze. "Your neck..." he murmured in his deep baritone voice. John's hand went up to his neck to feel a lukewarm wetness dripping down the front of his shirt. Wincing from the pain, John looked back up to find Sherlock was less than an inch from his own face. A strangled cry escaped his throat as he began to fall backwards. With unearthly reflexes, Sherlock caught him. "Careful, we wouldn't want you to injure yourself even further" said the man with a smirk. John couldn't help but blush in his somewhat weakened state. "S-Sorry, I-..." Before he knew it, Sherlock's head had dipped into the crook of John's neck. Tensing up, John's eyes opened wide, his hands grabbing at the others' coat in confusion. "W-What are you-? Wait!" John cried out as a wet tongue flicked over the wound. To John's surprise, he was relieved, albeit confused. Relaxing his grip, John practically lay there in Sherlock's arms with his neck to the side as lips closed around it and began to suck.

Without another word, Sherlock pushed John towards his bed and sat him down. "You taste of sadness" said Sherlock as he pulled away from John's neck. John was speechless as the other pulled up a chair and sat upon it to face him. John felt his cheeks burn, causing him to look away. "I... I thought you were dead" he blurted out. Sherlock chuckled and grabbed John's hand, placing it where his heartbeat should have been. "I am... More or less." said the male as he wiped the blood from his light pink lips. John's own heart began to race. Not out of fear, but out of curiosity. John blinked and looked up. "You... No... How?" he asked, his hand still resting upon Sherlock's chest. Sherlock shrugged. "Another time, another story... John." As the words left Sherlock's lips, John felt the first twinge of uneasiness. "You... You know my name...?" he asked timidly. Sherlock nodded. "Of course... You were the one staring at me all those weeks ago." said Sherlock. John blushed again and nervously ran his fingers through his hair. "Oh... Right... Sorry about that" he mumbled shyly. Sherlock's lips curled into a smile. But it was a smile tinged with sadness. John swallowed as he tried to get off the bed. As soon as his body lifted itself, John's knees buckled, causing him to all but collapse into the lap of the other. Sherlock simply held John in his lap, resting his long, slender fingers upon John's back. "Tell me, why are you sad?" Sherlock asked as he helped the other sit back on the bed. John's face contorted slightly as he debated whether or not to come out with his feelings to a near perfect stranger. Sherlock reached up with a hand and lifted John's chin. "Please?" he asked in a genuine and soft tone. "I was sad... Because of you." murmured John as he gazed into the baby-blue eyes of Sherlock Holmes. "Why? You don't even know who I am." said Sherlock, whose hand remained fixed underneath John's chin. "I don't know... I know your name... It was on the news" John said, continuing to stare into the others' eyes. Sherlock smiled and shook his head. "It's obvious, isn't it? You're in love with me. You have been ever since you saw me lurking in the shadows." Sherlock explained as John continued to blush. His heart pounding fiercely in his chest, John gently removed Sherlock's hand from his chin, but retained a light grip on the other. John bit his lip as he tried to find the words to refute the accusation. But he couldn't. With silent eyes, John looked up to find Sherlock's face once again less than an inch from his own. Long, slender fingers cupped John's face as soft lips pressed themselves against John's. Instinctively, John's hands rested themselves upon Sherlock's wrists as he kissed back.

After what seemed like an eternity, Sherlock pulled away but kept his hands where they were. "The feeling is mutual... John." he said before releasing John's face from their gentle grip. John's hand went to his lips. 'He... He kissed me, and I kissed him back... Oh my god... It's true. It's bloody true. I'm in love with this man' As the realization hit him, John's eyes focused on Sherlock. "Good, good... That's... Really good" John mumbled bashfully. Sherlock's eyes crinkled in the moonlight as a soft, gentle laugh escaped. "Relax, John." Sherlock said as he took a seat next to John. "John... We haven't yet discussed the obvious." he said. John looked over at Sherlock and asked point blank. "I assumed at first you were just a man with an odd taste for blood... But you have no heartbeat." John observed. Sherlock nodded. "Yes. That is correct." John's face went blank for a second. As the realization hit him, John was surprised to find out that he didn't care nor fear the man sitting next to him. It all made sense. Without another word, John pulled at the three buttons of his shirt. "It's okay... I want you to" he murmured softly. Sherlock shook his head. "You'll die." he said. John looked at the other with an unflinching gaze. "I'm not afraid to die... If it's at your hands" he said. For the first time, Sherlock's expression took a pained one. "John-..." John shook his head and took Sherlock's hand. "The thought of life without you is too much." John begged. Sherlock got off the bed and knelt in front of John. "There's no turning back..." he said, gently tilting John's head to the side. John looked at Sherlock through his peripheral vision. "I know." he said. Uttering a low growl, Sherlock's fangs pierced the soft, tender skin. The pain was so intense, John tried to scream... Only a soft, strangled cry could escape as a hand covered his mouth. 'I want this... But it hurts...' was the last thing in John's thoughts before his world went black.

"John... John" called a voice. John managed to open his eyes. Confused and disoriented, John tried to sit up. "Shhhhh..." soothed the ethereal voice as a cup was brought to John's lips. "Drink... It'll clear the fog." it said. Without another word, the warm, semi-sweet liquid was pouring down John's throat. 'What is this? Blood?' wondered John. Coating the walls of his esophagus, John could feel his body begin to burn with an intense pain. It was much, much worse than the pain of the first bite. Gagging, John felt his own blood begin to boil. Gasping for air, pinpricks of light began to flash before John's eyes as he tore at his clothes. Gentle arms wrapped themselves around John's slender frame, rocking him as the transformation began to take place. As it was said, the "fog" began to clear and the pain seemed to fade away as if it had never happened. Weakened, John lay limp as a rag doll in the others' arms. His vision clearer and sharper than ever, John could see Sherlock holding a silver cup. "Drink... You'll feel better" murmured the raven haired male. John obeyed despite the fear that there would be pain yet again. But to his surprise, there was no pain. The more blood he drank, the better he began to feel. Sherlock smiled. "Slow down... You'll get indigestion~" he said softly. John offered a weak smile as blood escaped his lips. Sherlock chuckled and wiped John's mouth. "Rest now... When you awaken, you will feel no more pain" murmured Sherlock. As the words of Sherlock faded into nothingness, John's eyes slowly closed... And he began to dream~

When John awoke, he sat up with a start. Was it all a dream? Did he imagine him? Did he imagine that the man known as Sherlock Holmes had come back to him? John didn't know. His head was aching slightly. A groan escaped his utterly chapped lips as he made his way towards the bathroom. Flicking on the light, John noticed that his skin had become incredibly pale. 'Am I sick?' he wondered as he searched for the thermometer. "You're not sick, John." said a voice from within the shadows. "S-Sherlock?!" exclaimed John. John looked with wide eyes as he began to process the fact that everything he had thought he'd dreamed up was real. It was all real. John knew he should be mad. He should be downright pissed. He had a life. Well, not much of one. But all matters aside, what would he do now? Sherlock stepped into the light. "You can stay here and wither away, or you can come with me... If I were you, I'd choose the latter." Sherlock said with a gentle smirk and an outreached hand. John made a face but relented. "Ahh-... Alright." he said with a sigh. John took the hand, and Sherlock led him up the fire escape to the rooftop of his flat. "Are you ready to experience life? To truly experience it?" he'll ask John. A twinge of fear shot down John's spine as he looked down at the street below. Swallowing loudly, John took one look at his "maker" or whatever it is that Sherlock had now become. One look. One look from Sherlock was all it took to reassure John that everything would be okay. A soft smile accompanied by the nod of John's head, and the two men jumped off of the roof and into the night~


End file.
